


United Nations

by Ishipbadasschicks (Awal)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, yes theres smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awal/pseuds/Ishipbadasschicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s by unspoken agreement that Clarke is submissive in public...</p>
            </blockquote>





	United Nations

**Author's Note:**

> The Fuckery of 3/7 will never be included in any of my stories.
> 
> Tumblr: ISHIPBADASSCHICKS

It’s by unspoken agreement that Clarke is submissive in public.

It was Clarke’s choice of course. She immediately understood the role of the commander and the importance of appearances. The politics are not lost on her, and neither is the grounder’s cultural belief equating love and weakness.

If there’s one thing you can say about Clarke, it’s that she’s stubborn, so her refusing to be Lexas weakness is not really surprising. Not when she considers Lexa a pillar of strength. Not when one of their first conversations was about Costia, and not when every time they are apart it could extend for forever.

So, while Titus and the ambassadors migrate from the throne room, slowly dispersing after the meeting to discuss skaikru’s role in the coalition, Clarke tries to maintain her distance from the commander.

She thinks it’s best if they avoid talking privately at all, because even the most casual observer would see how close Clarke stands to her, how their eye contact never breaks, how their voices are always so passionate. They would definitely notice the casual touches that scream familiarity and intimacy, all of the small things that only Clarke can do and no one else. 

They are already restless with her apparent favoritism. 

Clarke watches Lexa from the corner of her eyes and in brief glaces. She is pretty good at keeping her gaze curious and not adoring, but it’s hard when she’s mentally sketching a picture of her.

She will never stop being fascinated that someone so small, so beautiful, so soft, can command such a rugged demeanor. 

Clarke allows her gaze to slide up the never ending length of her legs. Why it’s necessary for Lexa’s pants to be so form fitting is not something she will ever question. Clarke loves how the curve of her calf flows into her thighs and the rounded flare of her hips and ass. How she locks her knees in and folds her hands behind her back in such a regal manner. Even the beautiful arch of her back is graceful.

Clarke spends several minutes thinking about the magnificent tilt of her uplifted chin, and the line of her jaw. She studies the daylight warming her skin, and the shades it brings out in her hair. 

Clarke makes a fist against her frustration. It’s one of those times she needs a creative outlet, but the perfect opportunity to create a masterpiece slips away because she is without tools.

“You’re staring” Lexa whispers into her ear. 

Clarke’s gaze snaps to the place Lexa was standing moments before, and she smiles realizing she zoned out, probably staring. 

“You were teasing me.” 

Lexa’s laugh is a small huff that Clarke feels down to her core. 

Lexa continues her purposeful stride across the room and her jacket billows behind her. Clarke can’t contain her smile at how dramatic it all seems. How her jacket is like a cape rippling in the wind no matter how still the air is. 

Lexa folds into her throne, her face a stoic mask that borders hostility. It shouldn’t be so sexy, but it is. Lexa is so soft and gentle with her that God, it is.

Lexa makes eye contact with Titus, and with one hand gesture Titus begins emptying the room. 

“Wanheda.” Lexa calls roughly. 

Clarke can’t shake the thought that she’s in trouble as she approaches. 

Lexa ignores her to glance at one of her guards and a small nod sends them both away. 

The heavy doors to the room shut them in with a resounding bang. 

Clarke takes an immediate step forward but Lexa stops her with a raised hand, “Stay.” 

This is the first time Lexa has ever raised a hand at her, Clarke doesn’t think other people are as turned on by it, but either way it’s definitely an effective tool. 

Lexa gazes at Clarke with her stoic mask. 

Clarke stares back, head tilted in amusement. “Am I just supposed to st--”

“Quiet.” Lexa snaps.

Clarke crosses her arms, eyebrows tilted in challenge.

Lexa studies her in silence for a few more moments before saying, “Take your jacket off.” 

Clarke doesn’t move for several seconds, just to show resistance before she slides her jacket off and tosses it carelessly to the ground.

“Boots.” Lexa demands. 

Clarke’s heart hammers so hard she might be in danger of a cardiac episode. This is really happening. She swallows, momentarily too stunned to move.

Lexa’s eyes narrow and she says it again, lower, slower. 

Clarke shakes as she toes off her boots and kicks them away. Her stomach is already clenching and her body is flooded with adrenaline.

“Pants.” 

Clarke shimmies out of them immediately, and tosses them aside.

“Come here.” 

She approaches the throne. Instead of leaning over Lexa, and kissing her like she originally planned, she stops once she reaches her and waits. 

“Closer.” 

Clarke steps between the commanders legs, she can now tell definitively that Clarke is panting and her pupils are dilated. 

“Shirt.” 

Clarke peels off her shirt slower than necessary, making sure her arms are up long enough to draw attention to her breasts and their contrast with the flat planes of her stomach. 

“This is what you want?” Lexa says softly, though her face and posture are unyielding. 

A small moan escapes Clarke, “Yess”

“Turn around.” Lexa’s voice snaps back like a rubberband, immediately harsh.

Clarke turns away from Lexa, facing the door. She swallows against the fleeting thought that anyone could walk in, anyone could see her exposed like his. She is slightly startled when one of Lexa’s hands wraps around her wrist and the other presses into her hip. 

Lexa guides her back onto her lap, Keeping Clarke's Legs outside of hers, so she is spread open. 

The warmth of her mouth closes around the juncture between Clarkes neck and shoulder, then teeth press into her skin-- hard.  
Desire ricochets through her body, sharp and deep. Clarke whines from the ache, from the inability to rub her thighs together to alleviate it. 

“Stay quiet.” Lexa breathes into her neck. 

Clarke shakes with the need to moan from her words alone. 

Lexa spans a hand across Clarke’s stomach. Her long fingers splayed, palm resting over her navel. 

Clarke swallows a gasp as Lexa’s hand roams up her stomach, flicking over the slight indentation of her ribs until she’s brushing lightly over a breast. 

Clarke arches her back, pushing herself into Lexas hand, unable to stop a hand from grabbing Lexa’s hand and pressing down until she is gripping her with something closer to the right pressure.

Lexa chuckles against her back, and Clarke can feel the vibration everywhere they are touching. 

“None of that either.” Her hand crushes Clarke’s breast in her palm, flicking over the already straining nipple with firm, insistent strokes. Clarke bites into her bottom lip trying control the volume of her breathing. 

She changes breasts and lets her thumb roll over her nipple until Clarke’s squirming restlessly, trying her hardest not to moan-- or die-- from her frustration. 

“I wonder if I could make you cum.. Just from this.” Lexa says conversationally.

Clarke moans loudly, and her eyes flick open when it echos throughout the throne room. She’s already broken the silence so, “No.” 

One of Lexa’s hands digs into her hip, the other pinches her nipple roughly, “Is that a challenge? Or a command?”

Clarke whimpers, but doesn’t answer. 

“You’re not in charge, Clarke.” 

God, she knows. The heat in her center has spread through her body, seeping into every crevice like color to a wet painting.

Lexa abandons her breast to stroke low on Clarke’s belly, her fingers teasing the spot just below her waistband. Finally she dips down curling over her mound and cupping her with firm pressure. Her fingers rub briefly against her clit. 

Clarke moans, deeply, the sound sits low in her stomach and she wants to laugh because she is so ready that yes, Lexa could have made her cum without it.

Clarke stifles another moan as Lexa runs a finger over her lips and pushes inside to stroke her inner walls. 

Her thumb settles on her clit and Clarke bucks against the pressure.

Lexa presses wet kisses to her shoulder and delicately adjusts Clarke’s position so she is at a better angle, her hips tilted. 

She slides two fingers into Clarke slowly, pulling out and rocking forward, stretching her, filling her a little more with each forward movement. She adds another finger, let’s her thumb rub her clit with each off thrust so that there’s always friction. 

Clarke drowns in the rhythm of wet suction and shaky breathes. Her inner thighs are sticky, and she can't bring herself to be self conscious about the wetness she __knows is soaking Lexas hand.

Clarke loses control of the ache building. She presses down, riding Lexas hand, not able to stop the low breathy moans that fall from her lips in a constant stream. Her entire body shakes, and she tips over into an unfathomable blackness so deep she can’t even make a sound. For a blissful few moments her vision plummets into nothingness. 

When she comes out on the other side, Lexa is still stroking her clit, her fingers still rubbing inside of her insistently. Lexa curls her fingers into _that spot_ , and Clarke tips over again emptying her lungs in one long moan.

Her womb clenches and contracts around Lexa’s fingers, a rhythmic tightening that makes her shake as every cell in her body throbs in waves of pleasure.

She’s vaguely aware that Lexa is talking to her, placing kisses along her shoulder and the back of her damp neck. She smoothes a hand over the still-quivering flesh of her belly. 

Clarke's body is still spasming when she lays back, resting against Lexa. 

Lexa curls her arms around her, pulling Clarke firmly into her body. She places a soft kiss just behind her ear, and just when Clarke is about to sigh into the contact, she hears Lexa say, “Boom.Out.”

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to CHECKEREDSUSPENDERS for the BETA help and also for the last line. I can't believe we really put that in there lmao.


End file.
